


wishful thinking, you might be mine

by dollsome



Category: Little Women (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollsome/pseuds/dollsome
Summary: “I need to practice swooning into your arms.”Amy and Laurie get cozy in one of Jo's theatricals, and maybe even in real life.
Relationships: Theodore Laurence/Amy March
Comments: 41
Kudos: 351





	wishful thinking, you might be mine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Valentine's Day prompt "Amy/Laurie + 'hug me'" from earnmysong on Tumblr. :) Title is from the lovely pining anthem for the ages "Paper Cup" by Heather Nova.
> 
> I decided to channel the 2019 incarnations of the characters specifically here; I've only seen the movie once so far, so some things might be off, and where on earth this falls in the timeline is pretty wonky. (But then again, so is the movie's timeline!) Basically, we are in a post-Beth-gets-sick, pre-Meg-gets-married stretch of time where everybody's growing up but perhaps not quite fast enough.
> 
> I, like everybody on earth, super loved Florence Pugh's take on Amy, so it was really fun to channel that here.

Jo writes another theatrical, and Amy is thrilled to see that she’s finally got a part that means something. Meg is so swept up in being the future Mrs. John Brooke that she can’t commit herself to the stage the way she once had, and Beth is still too weak to do much besides rest and get better. At last, it’s Amy’s time to shine at something besides being a better companion to Aunt March than Jo ever managed.

So when Laurie shows up for practice, Amy makes sure to grab him before he can get pulled into Jo’s orbit.

“Oh good, there you are.” Amy drags him into the parlor. Beth is napping and Hannah is doing the shopping in town, so there’s no one to overhear. Everyone else is outside enjoying the hints of summer in the spring air.

“Where’s Jo?”

Well, almost everyone.

“Upstairs scribbling away again. She thought of some changes that she absolutely had to make, and I wasn’t about to stop her. When I take to the stage, it’s to perform the finest material possible. I expect you feel the same way.”

“Certainly.” Laurie imitates her lofty tone at first, but softens at his favorite subject. “And there’s no catching her when inspiration strikes.”

There’s no catching her in general, but of course, there’s no point in telling Laurie that.

Amy changes the subject from Jo. “I’m glad we’ve got some time alone. I wanted to consult you about how best to prepare for our scenes together.”

Laurie grins. “How very official.”

“I need to practice swooning into your arms.”

“Oh?” Laurie’s mouth quirks.

She does wish he would take her a little more seriously. She’s far more grownup than he gives her credit for. “It’s in the script. You’ve read it.”

“I have,” Laurie agrees, good-natured but teasing. “I just assumed there wouldn’t be much to it. You fall, I catch you.”

“Oh, but there is. I refuse to become notorious as the least elegant swooner in all of Concord.”

“I promise you, there’s no danger of that happening.”

“How do you know?”

“You have a natural elegance, my lady.” Laurie bows to her with joking chivalry, like something off of one of Jo’s pages.

Amy tries not to let that get under her skin or into her heart. “Well, it isn’t only that. If you demand to know—” He hadn’t, but Amy ignores that. “—I’m thinking about the future.”

“The future?”

Ordinarily, to go on would be really improper. But as Jo is so fond of saying, Laurie is family. It’s not like talking to a _real_ boy about it.

(Of all the things that baffle Amy about Jo, it’s that she can’t see Laurie as a real boy. How could you see him as anything but? Then again, Jo has always been blind in the strangest ways.)

“One day,” Amy says, striving to be casual, “I expect I’ll allow a man to hold me in his arms. Once all the proper promises have been made, of course.”

“Of course.” She can’t tell quite what to make of Laurie’s expression. He’s still smiling, but seems a little serious underneath. Perhaps he’s been ruminating on marriage too.

“We’re all getting older; now is the time to start preparing. I intend to make a perfect wife. The last thing I want is to be bad at embracing. You know I’m not as dainty as my sisters, not even Jo.”

“You’re perfectly dainty,” protests Laurie, with the clear air of a man who’s never even contemplated such things before.

Amy does find that a bit heartening, but she goes on anyway. “In disposition, of course I am. I think we can agree I’m the most effortlessly ladylike of all my sisters.” Laurie’s mouth twitches. “But unfortunately, I’m not a tiny little wisp of a woman like Jo or Meg, and that’s what men want.”

“We do?”

“Don’t you?” Amy levels him with a stare. He never admits how he feels about Jo, but it’s so obvious. She wishes he would just come out with it. Put her out of a misery he doesn’t even know she’s drowning in.

“You, Miss March, are a divine and devastating beauty,” Laurie declares; his sweet ease hurts as much as it thrills, “and any man who wins your hand and your embraces is the luckiest on earth.”

“I’m glad you’re still sensible enough to see that,” says Amy, “but I’m a firm believer in practice making perfect, and you’re the only one I’ve got to practice with.”

“You could practice with Jo,” Laurie suggests, thoroughly teasing now. “She cuts a far more dashing figure than I do.”

“I’d rather die,” Amy says superciliously.

“I think she would too, in all fairness.” Laurie chuckles.

“Don’t you dare go laughing to Jo about this,” she adds, pointing at him. “This stays between you and me.”

Laurie traces a cross over his heart. “Between you and me.”

Best just get on with it, Amy decides. “We’ve wasted enough time. Everyone will be coming in soon, and the last thing we want at this point in the process is an audience. So I’m going to fall, and you’re going to catch me, and—and hold me. Just as the stage directions said. All right?”

“All right.” Laurie rolls up his sleeves the way he might before a playful scuffle with Jo. Amy tries not to consider his forearms, and mostly succeeds. “Come a little closer, then. I want to make sure I’ll catch you.”

Amy steps forward like a bride in a trance in one of Jo’s wild stories. He watches her with a focus she wishes she could keep forever.

Once she’s close enough, she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and lets herself fall sideways. For a second, there’s nothing but air beneath her, and she thinks of crashing to the carpet, of falling through the ice. Of all her careful planning coming to nothing; of being every bit as weak as she fears she is.

But then Laurie’s arms circle around her, firm and true. She opens her eyes to find his face above hers: eyes bright, lips curved in a smile. She thinks how easy it would be to kiss him, and wishes the script called for that too.

He pulls her up, his eyes still trained on her face; he doesn’t let go of her. The press of his hands on her waist is horribly exquisite. She ought to remove her arms from around his shoulders. She doesn’t.

“See?” He speaks quieter than he needs to, his voice almost a whisper. She feels each of his fingertips. “I told you. You’re a natural.”

Amy nods, speechless for once, and brushes aside a lock of hair that’s flopped into his eye. She wonders if he leans into her touch or if she only imagines it.

Then a storm of tromping footsteps: “Teddy, I didn’t know you were here already! Why didn’t you come up and tell me?”

Amy watches Laurie blink, like he’s trying to wake himself from a spell or a dream. “Um, Amy said—”

“Never listen to _Amy_. And what in the world are you two ninnies doing?”

Amy endures Jo much more easily than she used to these days, but just now, she hates her as much as she ever did at twelve. She takes a moment to savor how it feels to be in his arms—the only time it will ever be just the two of them like this—then lets go.

“We’re rehearsing your play,” Amy answers, lifting her chin. “You could at least be grateful. There are a dozen other things I could be doing this afternoon.”

“I am grateful,” Jo admits. “Meg will weep when she sees what a work of brilliance she’s missing out on. It will inspire her to join back in for our next one, just you see.”

“I doubt that,” says Amy. “She’s got more important things on her mind.”

“Please! What’s more important than the glory of the stage??” Jo says the last words in a great dramatic rumble, gesturing grandly at Laurie.

“Nothing in the world,” he laughs, his gaze all Jo’s now.

Amy feels sad for herself, but sadder for him. He sees Jo so clearly in every way except the one that matters.

“I’ll leave you two to your nonsense,” she announces. Once, she would have done anything to stay in the room with them longer. “I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

“I’m sure you do,” Jo replies, teasing. Once, her voice would have been crueler.

“Thank you for rehearsing with me, Laurie,” Amy adds, allowing herself one last look at him.

He smiles at her and presses his hand unthinkingly over hers. It’s funny how a touch can mean nothing and everything all at once. “Any time.”

She takes that little lie and pockets it like a jewel. One day, she’ll find a fine man who’ll belong to her, and won’t need it anymore. Until then, well, even impoverished girls need something to cherish.


End file.
